Microwave Massacre – Heat ‘N Eat

Donald is a ’50-something fat schlub who works as a construction worker. All he wants is a bologna and cheese sandwich for lunch, but his hideous wife, who recently bought a hi-tech microwave, keeps feeding him “cuisine,” like crab sandwiches. No real construction worker would eat sideways walking seafood – unless he was Alaskan.

Henpecked to the point of brain snappo, Donald kills his wife in a drunken rage, chops her up, wraps her parts in foil, and sticks her in the freezer out in the garage. Later, he accidentally eats part of her arm thinking it was something she had previously stored in the fridge. An honest mistake.

Damn, that meat is good, he thinks. So Donald makes wife sandwiches and shares ’em with the guys at work, all of whom concur that the mystery meat delicacy is quite flavorful.

Running low on wife, Donald picks up some hookers, has sex with them then cuts them up for more snacks. “I’m so hungry, I could eat a whore,” he says, smacking his lips in anticipation. But a diet high in saturated fat is giving the overweight Donald chest pains. But dang, those buttsteaks are yummy!

The sexy ladies in 1983’s Microwave Massacre – a self-proclaimed “worst horror movie of all time” – are very tasteful. OK, that didn’t come out right. But they do show a LOT of boobs, including the opening sequence chick whose chest should be designated a national monument.

Played as a black comedy, the humor is slapstick, the gore low-rent, the blood minimal. Still, between your lips or between two slices of bread, I’ve heard tell boobies are mighty tasty.